


"A Fiennes Family Christmas"

by Coralrose10



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-11 20:10:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12942852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coralrose10/pseuds/Coralrose10
Summary: Christmas 2013.  Family conflict and forgiveness ensue when Ralph Fiennes' sisters, Sophie and Martha, suggest a reconciliation between Ralph and his ex-wife, Alex Kingston.





	"A Fiennes Family Christmas"

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by ["Brothers and Friends"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11403333) by [Coralrose10](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coralrose10/pseuds/Coralrose10). 



> "A Fiennes Family Christmas" is an imagined version of a holiday gathering involving the famous Fiennes siblings -- Ralph, Joseph, Sophie, Martha -- and their children. Though its dialogue is invented, this work of fanfiction incorporates a considerable number of facts.

**"A Fiennes Family Christmas"**

  

   Having paid and tipped its driver, Ralph Fiennes alighted from a taxi and walked up the stone path that led to the front door of his brother Joseph’s “second home” in the south of France. With his wife of four years, Maria Dolores Diéguez, and his two small daughters, Ralph’s youngest brother and fellow actor came to this picturesque cottage for holidays such as the present one: Christmas 2013. It was nearly 6:00 in the evening of December 24th, and Ralph had arrived in France from England several hours behind his sisters, film-makers Sophie and Martha, and their children; the following morning, the remaining Fiennes siblings–Magnus, Jacob, and Michael–would arrive with _their_ children and wives. Yes, it was truly to be a Fiennes family Christmas, Ralph sighed to himself–-and a full house.

For the eldest Fiennes sibling, who had just turned 51, the thought of a cottage bursting at the seams was not an altogether pleasant one, for three reasons. First, Ralph, who had recently finished both directing and starring in a film about the life and loves of Charles Dickens ( _The Invisible Woman_ ), was still recovering from a bout of bronchitis that had developed from a bad cold. Second, he was a natural introvert and generally uneasy in a crowd–-even when the crowd in question was his very own family. Third, he was feeling melancholy as both his beloved parents had died within days of Christmas: his mother, Jini, on December 28, 1993, and his father, Mark, on December 30, 2004. Sadness, naturally, had been a feature of _every_ Christmas holiday since 1993–though, as he now fell into the arms of his brother who opened the cottage door before he could knock, Ralph comforted himself with the thought that this year, at least, he would have _all_ of his siblings nearby to commiserate with.

“Here, Joe,” Ralph said, disengaging himself reluctantly from Joseph’s warm embrace and holding out a shiny, silver gift bag. “This has your present in it, and Maria’s, and Sam’s and Isabel’s.”  
“Thanks, Ralph,” replied Joseph fondly, his voice as mild in tone as his elder brother’s. He accepted the proffered bag. “The girls are inside the house with _your_ present. Welcome.”  
“Welcome, Ralph,” repeated Mrs. Joseph Fiennes, stepping forward with a smile. “And Happy Birthday, two days late.”  
When Maria, who hailed from Switzerland, made as if to kiss her brother-in-law on both cheeks, he gently stopped her. “I’m afraid I’ve just had a cold; I wouldn’t like to get you or the children ill,” Ralph said. “So we’d better do this,” he continued shyly, kissing Maria on the top of her dark head. “Happy Christmas, and thank you for having me here.”  
Ralph’s sister-in-law giggled as Ralph proceeded to give the same type of kiss to his sisters and to Martha’s preteen daughter, Mercy. He then hugged Martha’s teenage son, Hero (yet another Fiennes with a film career, he had acted with Ralph in _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_ ), and handed him a shiny, gold bag containing his, Mercy’s, and Martha’s gifts.  
“Where’s–“ Ralph began, glancing around.  
“Titan?” finished Martha, referring to her university-age son. She handed Ralph his present. “Titan’s decided to stay home; he’ll be at a school friend’s house for Christmas. But he sends his love to Uncle Ralph.”  
Finally, Ralph pressed Sophie’s individually wrapped present into her hand.  
“It’s so exquisite, I almost don’t like to open it,” remarked Sophie as she studied the little, rectangular box swathed in crimson, damask paper and tied up with curly, silver ribbon. She then gave her brother his gift, more prosaically wrapped as it was. “You always have such nice taste, Ralph.”

***

A half-hour later, the presents Ralph had given and received had all been opened. From their elder brother, Sophie and Martha had both gotten new bottles of their favorite perfumes. Ralph had given Mercy a durable “evening purse” of dark-teal velvet; enthralled, the pretty twelve-year-old had immediately filled it with some of her own things. Now Sophie, Joe, Hero, and Mercy were in the playroom, minding the younger children (two-year-old Isabel; three-year-old Sam; and three-year-old Horace, Sophie’s son); Maria was setting the table for dinner; and Martha and Ralph, who had always been close, were “catching up” in the sitting room–Ralph filling Martha in on the details of _The Invisible Woman_ , which opened on Christmas Day in the US and on February 7th (Dickens’ birth anniversary) in the UK. As he spoke, Ralph carefully stacked his own presents, which included a gift card, handkerchiefs, two cashmere sweaters, and–from Joseph–a shaving kit. Silently, Ralph had wondered, upon opening this, whether Martha “put her younger brother up” to buying it. Ralph had shaved his “Dickens beard” off when _The Invisible Woman_ “wrapped”; Martha, he knew, would want him to _keep_ his face this way, as she preferred a clean-shaven look.

“And so I think you’ll really appreciate the three female characterizations in the film. Felicity Jones in particular has got such a gift," Ralph was saying now. Turning away from his sister, he coughed chestily several times.  
“Excuse _me_ ,” he murmured delicately, when finished.  
“Goodness!” remarked Martha, wincing. “Are you taking something for that cough, Ralph?” Ralph assured her that he was just finishing a course of antibiotics his doctor had prescribed. Touched by Martha’s concern, he smiled tenderly at her.  
Sophie wandered into the sitting room just then, a bittersweet expression on her face. She said, “Isabel’s so cute. She keeps pointing to that photo and trying to ask who it is.”  
“A photo? You mean the–“ Martha began.  
With a faraway look in her gray-green eyes, Sophie nodded. “The picture of Mum that Joe’s got up in the playroom. That’s right.”  
“How did you answer?” Ralph asked quietly--apprehensively. He remembered, suddenly, that Isabel’s birth-date of December 29 (2011) fell neatly between Jini and Mark’s _death_ dates. What a little blessing this was, Ralph reflected: a happy anniversary to offset two sad ones.  
Sophie sighed. “I told her, ‘It’s a picture of your Daddy’s Mummy, love. She’s not here right now...’” Sophie’s voice trailed off; she covered her mouth with one hand as tears spilled from her eyes.  
“Oh, Sophie!” gasped Martha, embracing her younger sister. Within seconds she began to cry as well, which prompted Ralph to rise and envelop her and Sophie, together, in a hug.

As he held his sisters, Ralph was transported, emotionally, back 20 years to Jini’s death, funeral, and burial. What a dark time that had been, he thought–and how easily the grief associated with it could return He himself re-lived the grief (and that of Mark’s death) each December, and he knew his siblings all did, too.  
Though he could clearly recall crying in Martha’s arms at Jini’s funeral, Ralph presently choked his tears back and comforted his sister, first by kissing the top of her blonde head and then by offering her one of the handkerchiefs she had given him for Christmas. He did the same for Sophie, who commented that Ralph had looked “teary” even while greeting them all at the front door that evening. “Poor Ralph,” she continued sympathetically. “Things haven’t been easy for you, have they. You’ve had so much to deal with all these years: Mum and Dad’s deaths, and your career, and us, and your relationships...”  
Here Sophie referred to Ralph’s failed marriage to actress Alex Kingston and to his long-defunct, subsequent partnership with actress Francesca Annis. As much as he had loved both these women, Ralph ultimately proved unfaithful to each–a fact that caused them, and himself, much grief. Put plainly, his consistent need for female affection–sexual and otherwise–ruined two steady relationships. Since his stormy (and much publicized) break with Francesca in 2006, Ralph had avoided “serious” romances; he was, however, currently dating, “casually,” the English fashion consultant Amanda Harlech.  
“Well, but I’ve made an effort lately to patch things up with Francesca, to the point where she’s no longer angry with me and I can see us being friends in the near future,” Ralph assured Sophie.  
Martha nodded approvingly. “We know you’ve done that, Ralph, and we admire you for it. But don’t you think it would be an even greater thing if–if you and Alex could find it in your hearts to forgive each other?”

At the mention of his ex-wife’s name, Ralph bristled. In 1997 he had left Alex, his longtime girlfriend whom he married three months before Jini’s death, for the much older Francesca. The extroverted and emotive Alex had taken the breakup badly, even becoming suicidal at one point. Eventually, she had managed to put Ralph “behind” her and begin a new life, with a new husband who was willing (as Ralph had not been) to endure arduous fertility treatments so that they could have a child, a daughter. Alex had found inner peace yet had avoided any reconciliation with her first husband, and Ralph–out of fear, anger, and shame–had likewise never “reached out” to her. Martha and Sophie, he well knew, were disappointed by this; they had loved Alex like a sister, and were sorry to “lose” her. As for Jini, Ralph sometimes thanked God she had gone to her grave believing he and Alex were happy.

Still, Ralph could now feel his mouth stiffening into what he would recognize as his characteristic, “tense upper lip” expression. He was indignant and on the defensive; he felt judged by his sisters, and he said so. They, of course, protested.  
“We’re not judging,” Sophie said quickly.  
“We’re not judging, Ralph,” Martha insisted. “We only feel some forgiveness–or maybe just a nice, long talk–would do Alex _and_ you a lot of good. I bet it would take away a bit of the sorrow you feel whenever you think of Mum.”  
That was another thing, Ralph thought. Martha said “we,” as though she and Sophie had discussed his “problem” together–on the flight over from London, no doubt. All of a sudden–recalling how an encounter with a stewardess on a plane had been a part of the miserable aftermath of his breakup with Francesca–Ralph felt trapped, panicked, _smothered_. Again he started to cough.  
Now it was Sophie’s turn to wince. “Ooh, that sounds bad,” she murmured, putting her hand on Ralph’s back and gently patting it.  
Had he been in a better mood, Ralph would have appreciated the sympathy; as it was, Sophie’s kind gesture annoyed him. He pulled away.  
Sophie winced once more, this time as though hurt. “Ralph, please don’t be hostile,” she begged softly. “Martha and I want what’s good for you, that’s all.”  
“Ralph, we’ve said all this because we love you,” Martha added, her voice quavering slightly. “We loved Alex, yes, but we love _you_ much more; we don’t like to see you suffering inside when a simple apology could give you some peace!”

Ralph stared down at the floor, ashamed as he realized he had hurt Sophie and Martha’s feelings, just as he had hurt Francesca and Alex’s. “What the bloody hell is _wrong_ with me?” he asked himself, in supreme frustration. Everything Martha had said rang true; and yet Ralph knew he could never bring himself to apologize to Alex, much less have a heart-to-heart talk with her. Even if he _did_ , someday, get up the courage to do as Martha suggested, he felt certain Alex would reject his apology–maybe even tell Ralph she hated him. His cheeks growing hot, Ralph remembered the unflattering comments she had made about him to the press years ago. Still, he himself did not hate Alex–though it was an undeniable fact that he no longer loved her as he had, or thought he had, at the time of their wedding. True, they had been _physically_ “in love” even toward the end of their marriage; but any _emotional_ connection–for Ralph the essential element in a relationship–had by then long vanished, never to return. To this day, Ralph could not explain how or why it had vanished, except to say that stress of various kinds had worn it down.

Slowly, Ralph looked up to see his sisters gazing at him with concern. “Ralph,” Martha said timidly, “your cheeks are all red. Are you feeling feverish?”  
“No. I’m fine, Martha,” replied Ralph in a voice so chilly, he barely recognized it as his own. “I’m just surprised that you, of all people, should be telling me to reconcile with Alex. Why don’t you reconcile with George?”  
Here Ralph alluded to cinematographer George Tiffin, Martha’s longtime partner and the father of her three children, with whom she had parted ways in 2011.  
At the mention of George’s name, Martha became visibly upset. Seeing the tears in her eyes (turquoise in color, like his own), Ralph felt horrid for grieving her yet again.  
“Ralph, I don’t _need_ to reconcile with George,” she said quietly, “because we parted on good terms. We’re still friends–“  
Her voice breaking suddenly, Martha sniffed and clutched her brother’s handkerchief to her mouth, before pressing to her moist eyes. Sophie put a compassionate hand on her sister’s shoulder. Overcome with remorse, Ralph rose, preparing to embrace Martha and ask her forgiveness, when Joseph appeared at the half opened, sitting-room door.  
“Dinner’s on the table!” he announced.  
The youngest Fiennes sibling’s smile faded and his hazel eyes widened in surprise when he saw how upset Martha, Sophie, and Ralph all looked.  
“What’s the matter?” he asked.  
Ralph shook his head. “Nothing,” he whispered. “Go on, Joe. We’ll be right there.”  
Putting one arm around Sophie and the other around Martha, Ralph proceeded to walk them toward the dining room. It was the least he could do, he told himself.

***

Delicious as Maria’s cooking was, Ralph could not wait for dinner to be over, so anxious was he to apologize to his sisters. Joseph, he felt sure, knew the three had argued about something; even as he talked and tended to his small daughters, he kept shooting quizzical looks at his siblings. At one point, Joseph whispered to Martha (who was seated next to him); she proceeded to take out Ralph’s handkerchief and dab her eye, as if to remove smudged makeup. Ralph then stared down at his plate, ashamed that he had made his sister cry.

Feeling a hand touch his, Ralph looked up. It was Sophie, who was seated to his left at the big, circular, dinner table. She smiled faintly, tenderly. Leaning close to her, Ralph whispered his apology. She nodded, and squeezed his hand. He squeezed back, somewhat relieved.

The minute the table was cleared, Ralph “cornered” his other sister in the sitting room, shutting the door behind them.  
“Martha,” he began, “I’m sorry for everything I said. Can you forgive me?”  
As Sophie had done, Martha nodded; Ralph hugged her, and she broke down.  
“I’m sorry I hurt you...I’m so sorry,” he murmured, holding her tightly.  
“No, Ralph, no,” she sobbed. “It’s not just you. It’s–I have a lot of stuff bottled up inside me about George, I suppose. I’m fine with the split, but I’ve begun to wonder lately whether it was a good thing for the kids, Mercy especially. I’d just managed to push all those worries to the back of my mind for Christmas–and then you mentioned George. But don’t blame yourself; it’s all over now. And whatever you decide to do about Alex is your business, Ralph. I won’t bring it up again; I promise.”  
“I understand you were concerned for me,” Ralph assured her gently. “But the trouble is, that even if I did offer Alex an apology, I doubt she’d believe a word of it. And, after I left her, she made it quite clear to the press that she could never be ‘just friends’ with me...Here, Martha, let’s take care of your face; it’s all streaming.”  
From his stack of presents, Ralph took a fresh handkerchief and handed it to Martha. She laughed ironically as she cleaned herself up. “Here, I bought those handkerchiefs for you, and I’ve made a mess of two of them already,” she remarked.  
Ralph gazed lovingly at his sister and friend–at the talented woman who had directed him with such insight in his films _Onegin_ and _Chromophobia_. Those were happy days, Ralph reflected wistfully: days before his “second romantic drama” (the one involving Francesca, a stewardess, and a Romanian singer) had begun...  
“That’s all right,” he laughed, patting Martha’s hand. “I can always put them in the wash.”

***

By 8:00 that night, Ralph’s relief at having “made it up” with his sisters had worn off, and he had taken to reproaching himself for his past, romantic foibles. He had also begun to cough again; at night, it seemed, his cough was always worse. He made himself a cup of honey-lemon tea to soothe it.

Ralph was ensconced on the sitting-room sofa, sipping his tea, when Joseph and Maria entered, wearing their coats.  
“Maria and I wanted to take the small kids to look at the Nativity scene outside the church down the street,” Joseph informed Ralph. “Sophie and Martha are coming as well, but Hero and Mercy are staying with you.”  
“Sam kept asking if you could come with us, but I told her you were ill, and that Joe and I would help her say a little prayer for Uncle Ralph,” Maria added, smiling down at her brother-in-law.

Taken aback and touched, Ralph gazed from Maria to Joseph, who was smiling, too. “Thanks,” Ralph whispered over the lump in his throat, the hint of a smile turning the corners of his own mouth up. “I–I’d appreciate that very much.”  
“Are you ready, Joe?” called Sophie’s voice from the foyer, where she and Martha were waiting with the three children. “I’d rather Horace didn’t stay up too late.”  
“We’re coming, Sophie ” her younger brother called back. Touching Ralph’s shoulder as though aware of his troubles, Joseph assured him, “We won’t be gone long.”

***

Having finished his tea, Ralph lingered on the sofa while Mercy and Hero sat on the floor nearby, talking and playing Pictionary. This had been one of Ralph’s favorite games when young (he had always loved to draw, and had even begun with university art studies before switching to a dramatics college); he still liked it but did not want to breathe and cough all over his nephew and niece. Consequently, Ralph remained where he was–watching, enjoying the comparative solitude, and noting how like her mother Mercy (who had acted with him in his 2008 film _The Duchess_ ) looked.

In the soft glow of the Christmas tree’s white lights, Ralph thought of his siblings and their children at the church Nativity display. Though raised Catholic, none of the Fienneses now attended Mass (Joseph, however, had been married in a Catholic church); Ralph and Martha (who was never actually married to George Tiffin) especially felt alienated from the Church due to their love lives. In fact Ralph was, strictly speaking, an adulterer, as he had slept with Francesca while still married to Alex. Of course he knew, at the time, that this was wrong; yet this knowledge had been powerless against the overwhelming, inexplicable desire and love he felt for the beautiful, older woman. Stunned by the grief of Jini’s death, Ralph needed to _feel_ ; he longed for _something_ (comfort? wisdom?) that Alex could not seem to give him. Surely God had seen his sorrow and knew his heart? Surely God was a kinder judge than mere humans were? Or perhaps what he had done was simply _unforgivable_. As a boy singing, with his siblings, in the choir of the Catholic church his family attended, Ralph had been innocent, his conscience pure. How he longed to be that way again...

Tears of regret flooded Ralph’s eyes; his sinuses opened, then tingled and itched. The inevitable result was a sneeze.  
“Bless you!” said Mercy, glancing up at the muffled sound.  
“Bless you, Uncle Ralph,” reiterated Hero, glancing up as well.  
“Thank you,” Ralph replied shyly yet appreciatively. He had begun to think his niece and nephew had forgotten he was sitting there.  
“Are we too loud, Uncle Ralph?” continued Hero solicitously. “Are we disturbing you?”  
“No, no,” Ralph replied. “You’re not. I like to hear you two enjoying yourselves, actually. It sort of takes me back to when–“ He wanted to say “when your mum and I were young,” but a sudden urge to cough prevented him. Ralph covered his mouth with his handkerchief and had a brief coughing fit, somewhat embarrassed to be calling attention to himself this way. A lot of good that tea had done!  
From her brand-new purse, which lay beside her, Mercy offered her uncle a cough sweet.  
“Oh _thanks_ , dear!” Ralph said gratefully, accepting it and popping it into his mouth. It occurred to him that Hero and Mercy were both _good_ kids who loved their flawed uncle unconditionally.

***

Joseph, walking home from the church beside Sophie, was speaking with her in hushed tones. "Yeah, I wish things had turned out differently between Alex and Ralph, too," Joseph said with a sigh. Sophie had just told him of her and Martha's wishes.  
Remembered images from Ralph's wedding flooded Joseph’s mind: the gloriously sunny, September day; the exquisite, old, Anglican church; red-haired Alex in her dark-green, Medieval-style dress; Ralph, youthfully handsome yet visibly nervous for the terminally ill Jini, who looked proud and at peace despite her bodily pain...  
Joseph's eyes filled with tears; to prevent their falling, he quickly drew the back of his hand across his eyes. Sophie noticed.  
“All right, Joe?” she asked with concern. Blinking rapidly, he nodded, and tried for a smile.  
Everyone’s been upset today, haven't they,” Sophie remarked, putting an arm around her brother. “You, me, Martha, and Ralph.”  
“I don't think Christmas will _ever_ really be a happy time for us,” admitted Joseph, sighing again. In a whisper, he continued, “Look here, Sophie. I'd love for Ralph and Alex to be friends again, but I think you and I both know it isn't going to happen; Alex was hurt too deeply, and she and Ralph have moved on since the '90's. They have nothing in common anymore. So I think we should just let it be. On the other hand, Ralph looked quite sad when I left him at the house; he seemed almost depressed. You know how he gets sometimes--like Hamlet. So I think we just need to–to show him we love him, and to hell with all the rest.” He chuckled, as did Sophie, at the irony of using such language near a church. Sam, who had fallen asleep in his arms, stirred.  
“We’re nearly home, darling,” Sophie told her. “Did you say your little prayer for Uncle Ralph?”  
Sam nodded. “She did,” Joseph explained fondly. “We prayed that Uncle Ralph would feel peace inside, and be well enough tomorrow to read to Sam from her new book.” Ralph's Christmas present to his niece had been a picture book about the Globe Theatre. Sam, who would turn four years old in March, loved colorful illustrations.  
How lovely!” said Sophie. “When we get home, maybe you can give him a little kiss on the cheek before you go to bed and Father Christmas comes. That should make him feel a bit better.”

***

Ralph had retired to the guest bedroom (which he was sharing with Hero) by the time his siblings and their children arrived back at the house. Since Sam refused to go to bed until she had kissed Uncle Ralph goodnight, Sophie took her into the bedroom and let her do so. Silently, the little girl leaned over her sleeping uncle and pecked him on the cheek. Sophie looked down at her brother who, for once, appeared totally peaceful and relaxed. Love overcame any self-consciousness she felt; after all, it was Christmas. She kissed him on the cheek herself before leaving the room with her niece.

***

When Ralph awoke on Christmas morning, he was surprised to see bright sunlight streaming through the windows, and the guest room’s other bed empty; Hero had gotten up. What time was it? Ralph looked at the clock: 10:05! Embarrassed to have slept so late (he was typically an early riser), Ralph was just about to leap out of bed when the door slowly opened and Joseph entered the room, wearing jeans and an olive-colored sweater that brought out the green in his eyes.  
“Hey! Merry Christmas, Ralph!” he said with a smile.  
“Merry Christmas...I–I can’t believe I slept this late on Christmas morning,” Ralph stuttered.  
Joseph laughed affectionately. “That’s okay! It’s not as if there’s a schedule; you’re not on the film set anymore! Your body probably needed the rest. How’s your cold?”  
Ralph inhaled and coughed. It was a dry cough, and his sinuses were clear. “I think all that nasty stuff’s gone from my chest,” he said.  
“So you’ll be able to read to Sam today?”  
Ralph nodded. I'd love to.”  
“Great! She prayed for that, you know; she likes to hear your voice reading to her. Martha’s making you some scrambled eggs.”  
“I could have done that!” cried Ralph. He was quite used to making scrambled eggs, as they were his favorite breakfast food. “She mustn’t wait on me...” He began to rise from the bed.  
Gently, Joseph pushed him back down. “No, no. Martha volunteered; she was happy to do it.” He paused. “Ralph, I wanted to tell you that I spoke with Sophie last night, and we agreed that Alex is probably a lost cause. What I mean to say is, you and she have both moved on with your lives; you have little in common anymore; and our wish for a reconciliation was probably more about us than about you. So we won’t harp on it, though we can always hope.”  
Ralph smiled. “Thanks, Joe,” he said.  
“I just think,” Joseph continued, “that keeping up grudges is never a good idea, as they hold you down. It’s only when you forgive that you start to feel free.”  
Joseph had hit a nerve. Covering his face with his hands, Ralph began to weep.  
In an instant, Joseph’s arms were around him, holding him securely. “Ralph, it’s okay! It’s okay!”  
“Joe, I _have_ forgiven! I’m no longer bitter about the fertility ordeal or about the things Alex said to the press–“ Ralph choked out. “It’s she who hasn’t forgiven me–- _because there’s so much more for her to forgive!_ My affair–“ Unable to continue, Ralph sobbed convulsively as pent-up emotion poured from him.  
“Shh, Ralph... _Please_ don’t make comparisons like that...What’s done is done...Shh...It’s wonderful that you’ve forgiven Alex,” soothed Joseph, patting his brother’s back. “I phrased that last bit of what I said badly. I didn’t actually mean just you shouldn’t hold a grudge, Ralph; I meant Alex also (it really is a pity she could never be friends with you; I fault her for that). I should have said ‘one,’ not ‘you.’ I’m sorry.” He gave a soft laugh. “Forgive me?”  
Against Joseph’s chest, Ralph nodded.  
His tone turning serious again, Joseph said, “It seems what you really need to do, that you haven’t done yet, is forgive _yourself_. Am I right?”  
Again the affirmative nod–and another burst of sobs.  
“You must try and do that, then,” Joseph commanded gently, now rubbing Ralph’s back to comfort him. “Try hard. It’s so important, because you’re the one who has to live with yourself...I put that badly, too. Let me have another go: because you’re inside your own skin, it’s absolutely essential that you’re at peace with yourself. How’s that?”  
“That’s perfect,” Ralph said sincerely, reluctantly disentangling himself from his brother’s embrace. He found it ironic that Joseph, seven years younger than he, should be in some ways wiser.  
“Great. Now, why don’t you rinse your face in the bathroom,” Joseph suggested, “and then we’ll go downstairs as Martha probably has your breakfast ready, and the kids all want to say ‘Merry Christmas’ to you. Isabel and Sam got Maria and me up at the first light of dawn, which means I’ll probably be exhausted by this afternoon. (Sometimes I envy your childfree life, Ralph.) Maria’s making ham; we’ll eat as soon as Magnus and Michael and Jacob all get here–at about 1:30.”  
“That sounds wonderful, Joe,” replied Ralph. “Let me just make a phone call, and then I’ll come right downstairs.”  
Joseph grinned. “You’re calling Amanda?”  
Ralph shook his head. “No–-Felicity Jones, my co-star from _The Invisible Woman_. I just want to wish her a Merry Christmas and–apologize for something.”

His mobile phone in his dressing-gown pocket, Ralph entered the adjacent bathroom, where he splashed his swollen eyes with cold water. While drying off, he studied his reflection in the mirror. On the whole, he thought, he wasn’t aging too badly. True, his finely cut features–including an elegant, high-bridged nose–had thickened slightly over the years. He certainly looked more youthful when clean-shaven, as now. Of course, neither he nor Alex (aged 50) were getting any younger; and Ralph could not help but wonder if his sisters had been looking down the road : thinking that the couple should make their peace before...before it was too late. This sort of thing, Ralph admitted, had indeed been a factor in his reconciliation with Francesca, who was 18 years his senior. For a minute, his mind wandered back to the giddy, early days of their love affair...

Ralph blinked back fresh tears. This wouldn’t do; he must live in the present. He turned from the mirror, switched on his phone, and dialed Felicity’s number. The talented, young actress had superbly played Nelly Ternan, Dickens’ mistress, in _The Invisible Woman_.

Felicity did not answer Ralph’s call, but her voicemail did. Well, no matter, thought Ralph. He would leave her a message. In a sense, this would be easier than talking with her; he was a shy man. At the beep, Ralph began his message:  
“Hello, Felicity. It’s Ralph speaking. Merry Christmas, my dear, and remember that our film opens in the States today! I just would like to–to thank you for all your hard work on _The Invisible Woman_ ; you were an asset and a blessing, and I’m very grateful to you. And please–if I was ever too much of an annoying perfectionist on the set (I’m rather controlling, Felicity; I try hard not to be, but I’m afraid I am), I do hope you’ll forgive me. You mustn’t ever think I didn’t like you or your performance, which was everything I could have hoped for and more. So, again, Happy Christmas. If you’re free later, you can ring me back. Have a lovely day.”

Ending the call with a sigh of relief, Ralph headed downstairs to join his family. Only now did he truly feel that Christmas had begun.


End file.
